


Event Horizon

by StainedGlassDreams



Series: The World That Never Was [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Infinity Stones, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Soulworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:20:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StainedGlassDreams/pseuds/StainedGlassDreams
Summary: "Hey, sleepy head, wake up."The bed underneath him feels strange. He clasps his left hand, and it's only then that he opens his eyes, slow and still dazed. He raises both hands to find them both flesh. No metal, no scars, just his own hands, as they were in 1945.





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, sleepy head, wake up."  
The bed underneath him feels strange. He clasps his left hand, and it's only then that he opens his eyes, slow and still dazed. He raises both hands to find them both flesh. No metal, no scars, just his own hands, as they were in 1945.  
"Finally. Jesus, thought you'd be sleeping forever." Dum-Dum Dugan is on his left, with Gabe, Falsworth and Dernier with him.  
The air smells like New York circa 1940. The scent of possibilities, kisses in the dark and the still wobbling legs of cars, with fumes to match them as bicycle spokes spur in the distance.

He isn't stupid. The last thing he remembers is feeling as if something inside him was being sucked away, as his body began to cru-  
"I'm dead." He says quietly, adding it up.  
"Are you okay?" Gabe says.  
"....How the hell did I get here?"  
"The hospital?" Falsworth said incredulously.  
He looks at his hands again, feeling water speck his eyes; opening and closing it. "....No way can you guys be in Hell."  
"Hell?" Falsworth replies. "You should fetch the Doctor, Dugan. I think this one's hit his head a bit too hard."  
"Lemme-oh Steve, can you please tell this idiot we're not in Davy Jones locker, bud?"  
Steve? He turns his head to see him in his reserve uniform, brown and freshly pressed. "....Not you too. Jesus."  
"What're you talking about? Whoa, easy." Steve says, as Bucky tries to get out of bed before Steve pushes him back down.  
"Steve....Thanos. ...Did...did we lose?" He asks, scared. Afraid that he and so many damn others are gone, for the first time, they've failed.  
"Who's Thanos?"  
He falls back on his now upright pillows slowly, and tries to understand what's happening. Actually finds himself attempting to recall all the bible studies he would happily nap on occasionally, trying to remember exactly what was said would happen when you died. The circumstances of Heaven and Hell, and if the people you would see were figments of your life, or actuality. He swears it's the latter but it's impossible. None of it is.  
"I...think we need to give Sarge a breather." Dugan claps Bucky on his left shoulder and it's still the oddest sensation, being able to feel it. He looks and also notices his hair is gone. He takes his newly recovered left hand and brushes it through his hair, finding it the way it was 70 something years ago; regulation cut.  
Steve looks on at him worriedly, hearing the muffled byes of his troops as they leave and he gets lost in his thoughts again.  
The room is empty besides the two of them, and it's then he hears Steve again. "Bucky, are you okay? If you need the Doctor-"  
"What happened?" He asks, his gaze somewhere else. "How did I get here?"  
"....You're serious, aren't you?"  
"I am."  
Steve looks at him concerned, wondering if he should before sighing, hands clasped and begins to say the thing Bucky had already guessed. "You nearly fell out of Zola's train. I was able to grab you, and you passed out."  
"So we got him."  
"Yeah."  
"....I've been out for a week."  
"...Yeah."  
He lets out a sigh, heavy and knowing the next reply will be the same as the others. "We won."  
"We did." Steve says, with that small, proud smile of his.  
He should be happy, a part of him is. But the rest of him is wondering where the hell he is. And how did he get here.


	2. Chapter 2

The leaves crack under his feet, freshly polished regulation shoes under the Fall leaves. None of this feels real, though his senses are saying non-sensically that everything is.  
Every breath in feels strange, his lungs not wanting to let go of the inhales; the crispness of the air, the smell of tested diesel run supply trucks; recruits doing laps and the sound of chants. Camp Lehigh is just as he left it before he was deployed to Europe. Before-  
"Sergeant Barnes!" A private walks up to him, saluting. "Colonel Phillips is asking for you, sir!"  
"....Yeah, let's go then."  
The eager private salutes again, before uniformly walking him to the barracks. And he almost wants to hold the boy on his shoulder; tell him to go home, pick your fights and help another way. Any way. Not to go into this hellish game of shells and mortars, thousand yard stares and the fact that one out of every two people you meet won't be coming back.  
He sees ranks upon ranks as he walks past them, and as he has this train of thought, he suddenly feels as if he doesn't belong. Some clapping his back saying "Welcome back hero boy!", and he still feels the burdens of reality, before this, bearing down on him. A twisted part of himself wonders, if he really died, someone had to have made a mistake putting him in what appeared to be Heaven.  
"Well well well, look who it is. The Golden Boy who Lived." Phillips booming voice echoed through, before shaking his hand. He had only met Phillips a few times, a friend of the friend of his Father, and from what he can remember, was more in Steve's life as Phillips was tasked with what he now understands was the program Steve went into. "Welcome back, son."  
"Thank You, sir."  
"Walk with me. Agent Carter is with Captain Rogers at the clinic. Just a few check-ups then you can go back to Brooklyn." And as they walked, a dropping, soaring sensation came through his gut like a kick. If Steve had lived, that means he would be with Peggy, living out the happily ever after he should have gotten. He hadn't seen her since 1944.  
He tried to see her, the facility she was living in was near enough to the train station. But it was monitored close enough, given it was also home to SSR veterans. And the closest he could get was a passing glance at a woman who had forgotten her accomplishments. He never lost sight of the irony that he was in the same boat.  
And it's Carter's voice that shocks him back, as he's momentarily taken aback, almost forgetting how gorgeous the woman was. "Sergeant Barnes. It's good to have you home."  
He smiled, putting aside the pang he had no one to come home to. "Good that you have your dancing partner back." He says, motioning to Steve.  
"Good to see you have your clear memory."  
"Not always." He says, an increasingly quieting part of him reminding him this may not be reality.  
A doctor peered his head from the tent. "Barnes, James?"  
"Yeah."  
"Ready for you in here."  
"Good seeing you, ma'am." He says politely, walking toward the plain brown tent.

The larger encampments stretched 40 feet or so, made as a temporary station for potential recruits who passed out on the field or sustained any minor injury.  
This one was half that size, with just Steve, a few doctors and another man with his back turned on the far end. "Hey." Steve says, embracing him, a look of peace in his eyes he hoped to one day see.  
"So what're we doing in the pop-up?"  
"Facility's being used for something and the training hall is a recruit joint at the moment. Philips figured pop-up's better than nothing."  
"Yeah, I guess." He replied, before a doctor asked him to take a seat on the makeshift bench, taking his blood pressure, heart rate.  
As he gets ready to conclude, it's then that everything moves in slow motion. As the figure in the end turns to reveal Howard Stark; still fresh-faced and charming as his son. Chiseled features and curious eyes that he last saw as shocked, before everything went-  
"Sergeant. Sergeant." The doctor's voice comes rushing back to his ears, a concerned look on his face. "Can you hear me?"  
Stark walks up to him, and he expects a shot to the chest, a punch, anything. "You doing okay, pretty boy?" Stark says genuinely.  
His stomach drops, as he tries to bite his tongue, desperate to tell Howard he's sorry. Sorry for not being able to break free, sorry for taking part in a mission that stripped him from his family, his son, his son who'll try to kill him and hell, he deserves it-  
"...-rnes."  
He feels nauseous slightly, as his breath is getting a bit hard to catch.  
"I-I'm fine."  
"Yeah, and I'm Greta Garbo. You should get some more rest Sergeant, I think the Colonel got a bit too giddy to get you back home."  
"I'm fine, I swear."  
"C'mon." Steve said, helping him up.  
"Steve, I'm fine."  
"Your heart rate spiked three-fold and you look like you've seen a ghost. Clearly, you're being worse than I am."  
"No one's worse than you." He says, feeling tired.  
"Damn right."


	3. Chapter 3

He's in yet another infirmary, this one of Camp Lehigh's under overnight observation.

They attributed the break to shellshock syndrome from Azzano, and left it at that, only after Bucky's repeated swearing of absolute certainty he was fine. He knows now, and then, he never fully recovered from that time.  
The moonlight hits the laminate of the floors, glistening dimly against a worn waxed floor. Against the snores and quiet breathing of baby-faced recruits who would understand later what it meant to be whole, yet disassembled.  
He's never really told...anyone about Azzano. Dugan knows some pieces, given he was walked past the room a few times he was told. But not what went on.  
If he's dead, he still isn't sure no matter how odd or nonsensical that is, then he would imagine all his memories would be back. Every haze he's hidden behind a protective fog. But it still... Isn't there. He looks out of the window. Maybe it's for the better.  
If he thinks hard enough, he can remember snatches, glimpses of Zola over him and blue pain. He remembers fever images and things that weren't there. Numbers floating as pain came through and the fear he was never going to come home.

"Can't sleep either?" He turns, surprised out of it, to a soldier in another cot.  
"...Yeah."  
"Neither can I."  
"What's your name?"  
"Monroe, Jack Monroe."  
"...Bucky."  
"Damn, Bucky Barnes?" He says, sitting upright as he whispered into the moonlit darkness.  
"Yeah."  
"You're a hero."  
"....Not really." He answers.  
"How, man? You helped save the world. Reap the benefits."  
The pseudo-world almost felt like a ripple inside of it. A reminder from his consciousness. "Maybe one day."  
Jack looks at him curiously. "One day? Why not now? Don't get lost in here." He taps at his head.  
A part of him wants to stop fighting, just accept this Heaven or Hell or whatever the damn thing it is and leave the rewards.   
That quiet part again feels the ripples, that something still isn't quite right, not to settle.  
He listens, at least partly. "I've found my way before. I'll find it again."


	4. Chapter 4

The coffee cup clinks against the spoon, swirling black liquid on a sticky diner bar.  
It's been a full week now. Or at least, however time works here, wherever here is. Fully released and ready to be "back in the world".

The doctor checked him out, signed the papers as Bucky sat there for a moment, trying to silence the part that wants to believe this is real.  
"You know, usually when I can get someone's knees weak, it's a compliment." Howard says as he walks back into the room, that all too familiar plummeting sensation haunting him. "Never had it happen to a fella before. How you feeling, pal?"  
It's an even stranger sensation, hearing Howard Stark's voice. Still charismatically arrogant, a youthfulness that would never leave, and instead transfer to his son. His son, who would look like his replica, and yet nothing like him; as a face twisted with sadness, anger and rage comes into his mind. All of it against the backdrop of every other mission, and he deserves to see those faces. Even in this pseudo-afterlife. But hearing it, being able to grasp Howard Stark in the flesh again, is as strange as it will get.  
"Okay." He gets out, still not able to look in his eyes.  
"That's the second time now." He sighs, sitting in the bunk opposite him.  
"Second time of what?"  
"The second time you've looked at me like I was a ghost."  
"If only you knew." He mutters.  
"Huh?"  
And it's then he says the only thing he can, the one thing that he needs to, even if it isn't real, or it's a time warp he's stuck in. "Howard," as Stark looks up at him, even further bewildered that he called him by his first name. "Promise me something."  
"What did you go through, kid?"  
"I'm serious." He says, looking at his eyes for the first time and seeing that Tony Stark inherited those dark brown hues that could express so much emotion, from him.  
There's a pause, both worried and heavy that exhales into the quiet air before Stark responds. "Okay pal. What is it?"  
"That when you have a family... A kid... Don't leave him."  
"What the hell are you on about?"  
"Don't take any chances. Just..." He remembers the last he saw of Tony; a regretful, lonely and hurt son, who wanted justice for a parent he never saw enough of. "...be there for him. Promise me."  
Howard looks at him worried, as if Bucky is either out of his mind or saw something. He can't tell him just how right he is. "....Yeah." He finally says. "Okay."  
Bucky nods, looking back at him.  
"What the hell did they do to you over there, Barnes?" Howard asks.  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"-fee?" The waitresses voice comes back.  
"Sorry, doll?" He says on automatic.  
She smiles. "I asked if ya wanted mo' coffee, honey."  
"No, no, Thanks."  
"Extra sugah then? It looks awfully dark to me."  
He looks down, too still black liquid and the smoke wisps that were present before, now retreated back into the lukewarm cup. "I'm okay. Thank you."  
She looks at him, winking slyly as she slides a small cup of sugar cubes to him. "Everyone needs some sweetness every now and then." The waitress gives one more smile as her red hair goes back to the other side of the bar.  
He smiles, looking down. Even here, he has a thing for redheads.


	5. Chapter 5

The paper bag crinkles as he brings it up to his apartment, taking out keys that are battered but still wornly new.  
He holds his breath as he takes out the front door key, hand wanting to shake as he doesn't know what to expect inside. Before he can, the door comes flying open, finding one of his hands going down to where his knife would have been had he not fallen down the rabbit hole.  
"Bucky!!" And he almost drops his bag, as he feels his eyes become slowly wet at the small girl now embracing his legs. "You're home!!"  
"Becca." He sinks slowly to her level, all wavy hair and a face he never thought he'd see again. "Becca. Doll." He hugs her tight, smelling his Mother's perfume on her that she'd always sneak on her, wanting to be a grown-up. Feels a hand sewn dress and the pencil she has in her hand. Most of all, feels his little sister again for the first time in almost 80 years.  
"I knew you'd come back, brother." She whispers in his ear as she cradles her head in his shoulder.  
"How could I leave you." He says, more a question that a statement, feeling cascades of silent tears. He sniffs, letting go to quickly wipe his eyes on his sleeve. "C'mere, let me see you."  
It's been a few years, and she's grown a few inches, her baby face still in tact and missing a tooth on the side. "Baby tooth?" He says, moving a lock of hair from her face.  
"Aunt Lisa says the last one."  
"You've grown."  
"And you still have the same stupid face." She jokes, her own eyes tearing up.  
"I missed you. God, I missed you so damn much Becca."  
Steve appears behind her. "She's been waiting for you here since yesterday." He says smiling.

They talk for a while, and though he replies, listens, all he really sees is Becca as she sits and sketches, all those times she stole Steve's book paying off.  
"Damn, it's 6." Steve says, getting up. "I gotta go."  
"Finally, a date, huh?" Bucky says jokingly.  
"Peggy. Teaching me how to dance."  
"Tell her to watch her toes." Becca says, with that same smirk Bucky inherited from his Father.  
Steve messes with her hair as he hugs Bucky. "I'll see you back here later maybe."  
"Yeah, see ya." He replies, finally happy Steve has a happy ending.  
The whiskey bottle remains untouched on the table, the only intoxication being this moment, as he doesn't give a damn if it's real.


	6. Chapter 6

It's 1am, and for the first time he can remember, he's happy Steve isn't back, the fact being that it means he's somewhere with Peggy, finally having that chance of happiness.

With Becca sleeping in his bed in the back, he decides to quietly as possible uncrinkle the paper baggie holding the scotch, getting a glass to pour it into. He then suddenly hears a soft whooshing. "James Barnes."  
He turns, seeing a strange yet familiar man, red cloak with an invisible air moving it and a full mustache.  
"Who the hell are you?"  
The man sighs, looking around. "I saved you for the last, if it's any consolation."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Because I knew it would hurt."  
He sets down his yet unfilled glass as he began to sit down in a chair he remembers being worn, hating that he was right. "....I'm not dead."  
"No. Not in that sense."  
He looks back at him, trying to set aside the sadness that none of it was real. "....Who are you?"  
"Stephen Strange. Fighting Thanos, same as you when you disappeared.  
"What happened."  
"The only outcome that would make sure we won. We had to lose."  
And he recalls more of the fight, a purple being and a death filled wind that came with him. Wanda's distant screams as a bright yellow light brought him back into a Wakandan jungle. "He got them. He did it." He adds, the failure hitting him.  
"But he doesn't understand them." He pauses. "Each stone has it's own being, the soul stone isn't different. He didn't know that the gem is a parallel plane of existence. It hungers for the very thing it is, trapping them in a fake reality. Something we're in right now."  
"So why haven't I woken up?"  
And in that moment, he swears he saw a slight pang in the man's eyes. "I think you even know the answer I that."  
He doesn't want to admit he does, looking over at Becca's sleeping figure, before Strange confirms it.  
"Because you don't want to. ...And I can't get you out unless you do."

The pang he's been hiding surfaced, the knowing that never left him since he woke up here.  
The life he was going to have. Get out of the impossible war, alive. Come back home, settle down. Have a family. And he feels again, that same dread he felt in Wakanda fictional weeks ago, Romania before that. That peace, that type of peace, wasn't his to have. It was his to give to others.  
He looked back at the room one last time, picking up the sketch she had drawn, a side view of Bucky. Still regulation hair, and the ending he was never going to have.

A mirror-like crack appeared in his view, spiderwebbing slowly around everything except him and the man as he heard the cracks, an orange light appearing inbetween them.  
"I'm sorry." Strange says, as the world began to fall apart.  
The orange light overtakes them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You for reading, and hope your realities are balanced

He's back in the clothes he last wore, one knee in a water like liquid that felt more like air and mercury, not soaking into his clothes, and his vibranium arm back on his shoulder.

"Welcome to the reality." Stephen says.  
There's nothing but a flat horizon, as orange dominates the plane. No structures, life, anything besides them and an eerie quiet as they stand in the strange liquid.  
"Who else made it?"  
He turns as he sees figures walking from behind them, the only two he recognizes being T'Challa and Sam, as the former embraces him. "I am sorry."  
"Don't be. I slept long enough, remember?" Bucky smiles sadly, as Sam chimes in.  
"Yeah, Freezerburn here was napping while we were getting out asses kicked." Sam lets out the smallest of smirks, before clapping Bucky's shoulder softly as well. "Nice to see you back."  
"How're we getting out of here?" He asks Strange, as the man begins to make movements with his hands, conjuring almost a sun from birth. "Breaking reality." Small cracks appear on the horizon, as it did in his pseudo-dream.  
"Ready?" Sam asks him.  
"...Always." He clasps his left hand, feeling metal. Fighting his way back to a peace he'll get to. One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Psssstt) There's an alternate ending to this, resulting in an adventure to get out of Soulworld, and the stakes. Taken from the comics and MCU-lore, it wasn't added here because I wanted it to be strictly Bucky's story. If you guys want to see the continuation, comment below ✌


End file.
